before I could even process the butterflies in my stomach, he was pulling me toward the couch. “What are you doing?” “I’m dead on my feet, Zoe. I had a long day, and then the study session went longer than I expected, and I had to hit the weight room before I came here. I’m wiped out, so we need to sit.” Oh. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled as he sank into the couch with a heavy sigh and pulled me down next to him. “I should get up and look for a candle or something,” I mumbled and tugged my hand. Instead of letting me go as I expected him to, he turned my hand in his then threaded his fingers through
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